By the next morning the four of us were bonded. Nothing was said, but all of a sudden we moved in a group. We breakfasted together in the main square, boarded a little tugboat for the short hop across the inlet to Pasaia San Pedro, and started up the mountain.
At breakfast, I learned that our two ladies were Anna and Margi, childhood friends having a short holiday together. Anna, or Ana, as she is now called, is a Swiss woman who married a Spanish architect and who has lived in Madrid for the best part of forty years. She worked as a translator, which was a bonus for me because she became my interpreter with Margi. Ever since I’d been learning Spanish, my highschool French seemed to have been squeezed out of my ears. I could understand what Margi said, but found it difficult to express myself. Margi had French and German, and Gisbert spoke excellent English, so we managed to play ‘broken telephone’ quite well.
Despite our inability to converse, Margi and I seemed to have a connection. She was warm and humorous despite a somewhat dolorous exterior. Ana was lively, and somewhat arch, and laughed at every opportunity. She was also a person who liked things done to her satisfaction, and wasn’t above the odd grumble. She was also really good at getting things for us, like lunch, outside the usual hours. My mother would call her a “going concern”. She was forever being called on her cellphone by friends in Madrid, or her daughter, with wedding plans. “hello, darling” is a phrase I will always associate with Ana. In my mind, I called her my Hispano-Suisa. Gisbert took a bit longer to know, and had depths I would not have suspected.
Once across the water, we set out for a walk that was advertized as strenuous but worth the effort. Right on both counts. We watched a crew of lifeboat rowers out for their Saturday morning training session. Lifeboat racing is a HUGE deal on the Bay of Biscay, with regattas held in almost every town of any size. These lads were relatively young, and very fit and jaunty in their purple jerseys. We walked along the front for the best part of a kilometer before starting the climb. We came round a corner to see a set of concrete stairs hugging the side of a cliff. Very well, I thought, I can do this.
Straight up they went, and round the curve of the rocks, to the next set, and the next, and the next. All told, I think there must have been five sets of stairs stretching up several hundred feet. I remember the watching the lighthouse which we’d encountered at the top of the second flight of steps getting smaller and smaller as we climbed above it.
Finally we reached the road which curved round the hill, still not quite at the top but close enough. The view was entirely worth the effort. Huge cliffs stretched away to the west, and the lesser hills were covered in wild flowers. The sea crashed away at the base of the rocks, and I felt very free, and happy that my body had weathered the effort of the climb. After that we walked on a footpath all the way to San Sebastian, meeting people out for a morning constitutional, and at one point finding ourselves in the midst of a cross country footrace, and having to step off the path to let the runners go by.
We walked as a group down the first promenade in the city. I marvelled at the sunbathers and water bathers so early in April. San Sebastian’s two beaches were fully developed and we were to be walking on pavement for the next several kilometers. We parted ways at the end of the first promenade as we went in search of food. Margi and Ana were going somewhere specific, and I’m sure that neither Gisbert nor I knew where we were going at all.
What a gracious town! Of course there was the usual spate of construction marring the facade, but I was impressed at the prosperous feel of the place and the beautiful fin de siecle architecture. This was after all, a royal watering place. The central plaza was aglow with flowerbeds, and full of laughing children out for a walk with their parents. There was plenty to amuse them, swings and monkeybars and an amazing carousel, with dolphins, horses, carriages; just about any ride you could imagine, all lit up with fairy lights and surmounted by double tailed mermaids.
About midway down the second beach, I found a tourist café that catered to Spanish tourists, where I had some water and tea and some tapas. It felt great to sit down in the relative darkness and take a load off my very hot feet. Refreshed, I carried on to a park at the end of the beach where I took off my shoes and socks and rested. Because I was starting to get some "hot spots", I took the precaution of regreasing my feet with Vaseline, and put my silicone toe protectors in place. I had learned last time to take preventative measures rather than wait until I was injured.
The Camino now entered a residential area and began to climb up the ridge of Monte Urgull. At the top, there was an amusement park which, mercifully, one bypassed, but it might have been nice to take the funicular.
About halfway up, I came across Gisbert, who was sitting on a low wall, obviously in a state of meditation. He nodded, but it was clear to me that he preferred me to go on, so I did.
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